From small beginnings major hazards grow. ‘Who told you you could have a pedicure…?!” bellowed the surgeon, an otherwise charming man with an international reputation to protect. “Do you realize what could happen now?” he went on. “If the new hip gets infected we have to take it out. Then we put in a temporary hip, and three months down the road insert another permanent one, all while trying to keep you alive.” I could hear him thinking, How could she have done this to me …! “The nails have to come off!” he said firmly, instructing one of his several adoring residents to prepare the anaesthetic. A table full of instruments was wheeled into place next to me.